


Getting Away With Murder

by thevalesofanduin



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: But Dwalin loves him anyway, Crappy motels, Dwalin attempts romance, Humor, M/M, Maybe I'm not sure, There is murder though, Thorin is a little bit of an ass, gangster au, modern!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 23:15:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevalesofanduin/pseuds/thevalesofanduin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the run, trying to get away with murder while the body-count is still going up, Thorin and Dwalin's home nowadays are various motels with various degrees of "clean". But it's home and somehow, they make it work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Away With Murder

**Author's Note:**

> And the last prompt for my holiday prompt fest!  
> Song was [Getting Away With Murder by Papa Roach](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eqWpKATpZg4) and requested pairings were Thorin/Dwalin
> 
> Very romantic, that's for sure! When I first saw this prompt I wanted to kill the person but I actually had a LOT of fun!
> 
> This fic is for [Outosumi](http://outosumi.tumblr.com/)

_I feel irrational_  
So confrontational  
To tell the truth I am  
Getting away with murder  
It isn't possible  
To never tell the truth  
But the reality is I'm getting away with murder  
(Getting away, Getting away, Getting away) 

_Click-click_

The sound of a gun being re-loaded echoed through the room.

Conversation halted straight away, all occupants standing within a second, guns drawn, eyes shooting through the room and glance at every dark corner.

_Bam_

A shot rang through the air, loud in the small, dark room.

A man in a white suit let out a painful moan, fell down to hit his head against the table before his body slumped down to the ground. Dead.

_Click-click_

The gun was reloaded again.

“Who’s there!” A man in a black suit yelled.

“Show your face!” Another man in another black suit demanded.

_Bam_

A man in a brown suit cried out and fell to the ground. Dead.

The men left in the room glanced at each other, guns drown and panic in their eyes.

But no shots followed.

No other men were killed but the two on the ground.

A man in a white suit and a man in a brown suit. Both part of Azog’s gang.

Outside, a man clad in dark jeans and a dark sweater stepped into a grey pick-up.

“It’s done.” He said gruffly, throwing his rifle onto the back-seat.

“Good.” The man in the driver’s seat nodded, grim smile on his lips and long hair shielding the rest of his face from view. “Eight more to go.” He said as the car sped away into the night.

\---

“’m at the gas station now. Want anything?” Dwalin asked Thorin over the phone, which was pressed firmly between his ear and shoulder as he filled up the car.

“Some sushi, perhaps.” Was the joked reply.

“Right, sushi.” Dwalin laughed, the sound loud and booming and gruff. “I’ll see what I can do, yer majesty.”

An elderly lady, parked next to him, shot him a wary look and Dwalin grinned at her.

When she quickly rushed into the gas station, he laughed again.

“Nothing less than your absolute best. You know that.” Thorin deadpanned.

Dwalin chuckled. “Anything fer ya.” He promised. “Jus’ no sushi, ‘m ‘fraid.”

On the other side of the phone, Thorin laughed. “I might be able to forgive you for that.”

It still sent shivers down Dwalin’s spine, still made him feel incredibly happy. Even after all this time.

 

Dwalin put his phone away when he entered the gas station.

He pulled his cap a bit further over his face, a shadow falling over his eyes as he quickly scanned the shop. 

No-one was there, a camera was up at the counter only filming the cash-register and the one at the back of the store had wires hanging from it. Obviously just show.

Good.

He moved around the store, grabbed some things he knew they would need and then made his way over to the fridges.

What food to get? He wondered. There were some tacos, which they’d had for the past three days. A Caesar salad which made him shiver at the mere thought. Definitely too healthy.

When living on microwavable dinners for weeks an end, choice was definitely a luxury.

When he’d decided on their dinner – or breakfast, as it was closer to that time than it was to dinner – Dwalin moved on to the liquor part of the store.

Some wine would be fitting for the occasion. But as he only had microwavable dinners and a few bars of Snickers as dessert – plus Thorin always favored wine a bit too expensive for a gas station to sell – he settled for a few half-liter cans of beer.

He made his way to the counter and passed by a rack of crappy flowers, leaves hanging and looking sad. There for husbands to buy on their way home to an angry wife.

Dwalin wasn’t a husband and Thorin most certainly not angry – nor a wife, but he didn’t need to point that out obviously – but he shrugged nonetheless.

_Why not?_

He grabbed a small bouquet of roses – because if there was anything he was going to take it would be roses – and stalked over to the counter where he threw his stuff down. He kept his head lowered, the shadow of the cap covering his face and shading it from the camera.

The clerk didn’t pay him any attention, Dwalin paid and he was back in the truck within a few minutes.

_Be right back_

He texted Thorin.

With their current predicament, it would be best to warn the other someone was coming through the door soon.

\---

He parked the car in front of their room. He dimmed the lights, shut down the engine and lit a cigarette before getting out of the car.

He inhaled sharply and took a moment to look around the place.

This was probably one of the crappiest motel’s they’d stayed had in a long time. Sure, they’d seen some bad places but this… 

At least the room didn’t smell like piss but that was about the only positive thing that could be said. Oh, yes, the TV worked.

Thank someone for small miracles.

The guests fit in with the interior – Dwalin and Thorin included, sadly enough – and Dwalin glared at the woman leering at him from her doorway five doors down. 

If only she knew.

He took another drag of his cigarette and rounded the truck, opening the passenger door to retrieve the stuff he bought.

Bag in hand, he finished his cigarette and threw it down to the ground before locking the car – as if someone wanting to steal it wouldn’t if it were locked – and made his way to the room.

 

He threw open the door – Thorin didn’t even look up – and called out: “Honey, I’m home.”

_That_ got Thorin to look up, glaring at him in a way that made the man look a tad bit too sexy if you were to ask Dwalin. “How many times do I need to tell you…” Thorin sighed and shook his head.

Dwalin smirked. He closed the door with his foot and locked it with his free hand – at least it would give a sense of safety that way. “Tell me what?”

Thorin merely rolled his eyes and turned back to the papers laid out on the table in front of him.

The table was one of the few pieces of furniture.

There was a double bed, a couch which barely fit the two of them, the table and a TV. Then of course there was a microwave – which Dwalin had to fix himself – and a door which led to a sorry excuse of a bathroom. 

It was shitty, but for tonight it would be home.

“Who’s next?” Dwalin inquired as he prepared their food – heating things in the microwave, that was his sort of cooking.

“Bobby.” Thorin said, shuffling through his papers and making some notes. “We’re gonna lay low for a few days, though.”

“What’ver ya wish for, yer majesty.” Dwalin laughed and started taking the other things he got at the gas station from the bag. “Put that stuff away, Thorin. We’re eating.”

Thorin looked at Dwalin with a raised eyebrow. “Since when do you care?” He asked, although he did gather his papers into a pile.

Meanwhile, Dwalin put down the Snickers bars and opened the package he’d grabbed the moment he’d entered the gas station. There were little tea lights in there, which he scattered over the tabletop. 

“Dwalin, are you fucking kidding me?” Thorin asked, sounding a combination of touched, amused and annoyed.

Dwalin gave Thorin a look. “Just light the damn things, will ya?”

Thorin rolled his eyes, but did as he was asked but not without joking: “Next you’ll say you got me flowers.”

“Indeed I did.” Dwalin said, taking the bouquet from the bag and putting it down on the table as well. He smirked at Thorin. “Matches yer eyes.”

Thorin snorted and shook his head. “Did you hit your head today? Really, Dwalin.”

“It’s five years t’day, Thorin.” Dwalin looked at Thorin with a smile – a real one, one that only Thorin got to see and even then it wasn’t very often. “Might’a been a crappy five years considering what happened with yer da and all, but five years nonetheless.”

Thorin’s expression softened and he looked almost guilty. “I forgot.”

“’f course ya did. Yer too busy with the revenge on Azog for ye da.” Dwalin said. The microwave bleeped, but he ignored it. Instead he kept his eyes on Thorin until the other finally looked up.

“Dwalin…”

“It’s what ye got me fer, yeah? The dirty work, remembering shit like this. You jus’ get yer head in order and get revenge.” Dwalin said and he meant it.

Thorin nodded. “After that…” he started and trailed off.

After that, they both didn’t know what would happen.

“We’ll see when that happens.” Dwalin said and turned to get their dinner.

Thorin didn’t say anything – what could he say, really? – and Dwalin heard him turn on the TV.

The familiar sounds of America’s Most Wanted drifted through the air.

The police were looking for some scum killing only members of a certain gang. It was one man, long beard and a head full of brown hair. Tattoos covered his entire body.

“At least they got the tattoos part right.” Dwalin laughed, putting down their piping-hot meals.

Thorin shook his head, an amused smile on his lips. “It’s a good thing you lost the beard though.”

Dwalin draped himself onto the couch, leaning heavily against Thorin who looked at him with a smirk. “Is it now?” 

Thorin hummed and reached out a hand, dragging his palm over the stubble on Dwalin’s cheekbone. “Oh yes.” He murmured and leaned forward to press a quick kiss to Dwalin’s lips.

A quick kiss that turned long when Dwalin cupped the back of Thorin’s head and deepened the kiss into something harsher and dirtier. 

When their kiss broke, Thorin smiled. “Happy anniversary.” His voice was husky, slightly raw with emotion and he sounded breathless.

“Indeed.” Dwalin nodded and glanced at the table. “I got us mac’n’cheese and some Chinese stuff.” He turned to Thorin with a toothy grin. “I’ll try an’ make it sushi next year.”

Thorin laughed and shook his head. “No need. It’s perfect.”

And that’s how Thorin and Dwalin spent their five-year anniversary. Leaned against each other on a shabby couch in an even shabbier motel, eating microwavable dinners with a table filled with tea lights and roses, America’s Most Wanted on the TV.

It was one of their most romantic anniversaries while on the run, trying to get away with murder.


End file.
